


Broken Soldier

by NicoleBloom89



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8118523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoleBloom89/pseuds/NicoleBloom89
Summary: Nick had felt pain in many shapes and forms, but never before had he felt it with such intensity; all consuming as he did when he peeked inside of the box label with his name on it. Like Pandora's box. All hell broke loose the moment the lid was off. Nick wish he had never open it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The moment I saw the scene where Nick's mother died I knew I just had to create a moment where Renard is comforting his devastated grim.

**Broken Soldier**

  
Something was wrong.

Whatever had happened back at Nick and Juliette's house, even from a distance, Renard could tell it had been bad. _No smell of blood,_ Renard thought as he inhaled the scent of his grimm. So no injuries. The relief Renard felt had him leaning against the window for support. Though, even if Nick was physically unharmed, Renard noted, the question of his mental state was a different story.

Renard watched as the familiar car parked across the street. The sense of anger and grief was almost to the point of being overwhelming. It took all Renard had not to rush outside. He wanted to, but doubted such an action would be welcomed by the grimm. They weren't lovers, after all. If they were even friends... The sound of hastily approaching steps could be heard from the back of the shop. Renard barely had time to turn around to face the man before Monroe burst into the room.  
”What's going on?” Monroe growled. Concern clearly written across his face. ”I can feel him all the way from the storage room and they haven't even left the bloody car!” The frown in his face grew deeper the moment the car door was shut closed. ”Something happened,” Monroe said. ”Something very bad.” Hastily he went for the door, but he had barely reached it before the door to the shop flew open and a distressed grimm walked inside with Hank and Truble soon after. Their faces were scrunched up in concern and their eyes refused to leave Nick's tense shoulders. But Renard didn't pay the two of them much attention. All he could think about was Nick. The grimm's jaw was tightly shut, his hands were visibly shaking, and his eyes red and bloodshot. There were no doubt in his mind that Nick had been crying and that alone made Renard's heart ache.

It came as no surprise to Renard when he, one day at the office, realized that he had fallen in love with the grimm. The feelings had always been there. At first Renard thought it had to do with his role as Captain, caring for his detective, but even caring for an employee had its limits. Neither did he see Nick as a simple friend, no, Nick was so much more; which left him with the conclusion that he was, in fact, in love with the man.

It should have concerned him. Being in love with someone under his command, and a grimm no less, was not a small thing, but it hadn't. Nick was an attractive young man and he was smart too, caring and strong and... Yeah, Nick was a good mate, the _perfect_ mate. Renard sigh heavily. Nothing would came out of it. His relationship with Nick was always at the brink of destruction. With everything that had happened between them, especially with Juliette, a friendship with Nick someday was more then enough. Speaking of Juliette.  
”Nick, what happened?” He asked. But the younger man didn't respond. His eyes glazed over and his body start trembling. Renard was about to reach out, to grab hold of the man, to hold him, consequences be damed, but before Renard had even had the chance to do so Nick had fled the room with a broken sob. Rage blossomed in Renard's chest. Whoever was responsible for his detective's pain was about to die a most painful death. ”What the hell happened, Hank?” Renard barked.  
”When we arrived at the house there was no one there. Only a packet addressed to Nick...” The other detective hesitatingly stated.  
”A packet? A packet of what?” Hank, sudden unable to meet his Captain's eyes, much less speak, left the question unanswered. ”Hank, what was it in the packet?” Hank looked torn and ready to burst out crying himself. Renard's concerned grew tenfold. What the hell happened over there?  
”His m-mother...” Hank finally replied. ”In the box addressed to Nick was the head of Nick's mother.” Renard felt the need to throw up, only years of self-taught control prevented him from ruin his black leather shoes. Unfortunately, there weren't much he could do to save them from the coffee suddenly splashing all over the floor.  
“O-oh my g-god!” The woman exclaimed horrified. Monroe rushed over to his girlfriend. “They did w-what?”  
”They... They had cut off her head and left it behind for Nick.”  
“That's horrible! Where is Nick now?”  
“Basement,” Hank replied with a heavy sigh. He had never seen such utter despair on his partner's face before. It was a sighed he would never forget. And wished to never witness ever again.  
“I'll kill the son of a bitch who did this!” Monroe hissed through gritted teeth. _Get in line,_ Renard thought furiously. Mentally counting the bullets he had in his gun. Renard fished out his phone to put the hunt for the bastard into action when Truble rushed into the room, flushed and wild-eyed.  
“It's Nick. He is out of control!” A loud cry of rage and pain, soon following with a crack echoed in the room. Phone immediately forgotten Renard ran downstairs. It had been a long time since Renard had felt his heart racing with fear, but it did, loudly and heavy in his chest. If he were ever to lose Nick, he didn't know what he'd do with himself. The thought alone almost had him crying.  
Renard suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. The sight that met him left him immobilized. Nick was pounding into the wall in blind rage. The stones cracking under the raw force. Bricks crumbling to the floor and blood smearing the wall. The rage Renard felt from the younger man was uncontrollable and hot; coming off of him in waves. The grief overwhelming, raw and naked. The roars and cries that came out of him sound very much like those from a wounded animal. Renard had never seen the detective this devastated before. The pain so obvious and deep it cut Renard's own heart. The agony intense enough to make him feel it as well. It left him shaking.  
“W-we have to stop him or he might seriously hurt himself.” Rosalee agreed with a broken sob.  
“I tried to calm him down but he wouldn't listen to me,” Truble said. Renard shook his head sadly. This had nothing to do with will.  
“It's not about him listening or not. He simply can't hear you at this point,” Renard said, refusing to take his eyes of the wounded man in front of him. “Nick is hurt, emotionally. The pain, the rage is overwhelming. He is blinded by anything but the grief of his mother. He is trying to accept the truth about her death and yet he is fighting it at the same time. All that matters to him right now is to find a way keep himself grounded in reality. In Nick's mind, there is only one way for him to do so.”  
“Through pain,” Hank whispered. Renard nodded. “As long as I bleed, I'm alive, huh?”  
“Something like that. It's quite the natural response.”  
“Natural or unnatural, I don't care!” Trouble cried. “I just want him to stop! I don't want to see him hurting like this!” Her tears streaming freely now. “I... no more, please...” It was hard to imagine the girl, now shaking and crying wholeheartedly, to be a feared grimm, but Renard felt for her. They all did.

The loud sound of stone cracking in half had them all starring in shock and disbelief as a large part of the wall start to crumble down around the incontinent grimm.  
“Nick!” Trouble shout. Fearing for her friend's safety Trouble tried to reach him, but was quickly halted by Hank.  
“Truble, I want to stop him too, believe me, I do. But tell me, how am I suppose to stop a man- a _grimm_ who just punched through a brick-wall with his bare hands without risking getting myself killed? The Captain is right. Nick is not himself.” Troubled stared at him in disbelief.  
“What are you talking about? Nick has never been more human, more himself than he is right about now! Nick is not pretending to be alright! He is not pretending to be the strongest there is! He is not pretending anything!” Enraged Truble tore herself free from the detective's hold. “It's not the grimm crying.” She went on. “Nor is it the detective. It's Nick. If that's not human enough for you, I don't know what is.”

Renard could see shame in Hank's eyes, rage and frustration as well. Renard could understand where Hank was coming from. Nick could bring serious harm to everyone in the room. Including Renard himself. But leaving Nick on his own? Renard would rather die trying to calm his distressed grimm then doing nothing. With a sigh Renard removed his jacket.  
“Captain?”  
“Leave the room, all of you. Now, please.”  
“Are you sure Captain? I can stay if– ”  
“Hank,” Renard interrupted. “I know Nick is your partner, but you said it yourself; what can you do? Nick is a grimm. What if you get hurt? How do you think it will make him feel?” Hank sigh heavily. He knew his Captain was right, but it still felt like a betrayal on his part. “Hank, I know you want to help. All of you do, but if you really want to help Nick the best you can do is to let me handle it.” Hank reluctantly agreed.  
“I'll leave him in your care, then.” Renard nodded and watched them ascending the stairs. Once the door shut close behind them did Renard return his attention back to the grimm. He hadn't been lying when he said Nick was a high risk. Nick was hurt. His actions were not those of a rational man, but those of a wounded animal. Nick could lash out at anyone in his shattered state, even a friend. Renard just hoped it wouldn't come to that. He would hate to have to hurt Nick any further then he already was.  
“Nick,” he said softly. Careful not to scare the other man. “Nick, I need you to listen to me, alright? You're hurt. Your hands are bleeding. You need to stop before you harm yourself any further. Do you understand me?” Nick didn't respond. His attention fully on the brick-wall in front of him; crumbling to dust under the force of his fist, smeared with blood and sweat. Nick knew his hands were in pretty bad shape, almost to the point of permanent damage, but he didn't care. All he cared about was the rage inside of him . The rage and pain consuming him at whole. There was nothing he could do but to keep pounding at the wall; hoping to hit it hard enough, long enough, inflict enough pain to ground himself; a connection that had been cut from him the moment he had seen the decapitated head of his mother. It was a desperate attempt to reattach himself to reality, so he kept pounding, over and over and over again.

It didn't help.

Nick still felt as lost as ever. He still felt the need to scream and cry, to punch and kick, to cut and burn, to – A pair of strong arms suddenly enveloping him from behind. Nick's instinct screamed at him to break loose, but the stranger refuse to give in, only holding him tighter, stronger. Nick tried to escape, but he was tired and the stranger was warm and comforting. A gentle hand carefully running through his hair with such tenderness and affection it was hard not to seek it out; a voice whispered nothing but gentleness that lulled his aching heart.

In his desperate need for comfort Nick let the stranger manhandle him however he might see fit. He didn't care if he was half sitting, half laying on the cold, concrete floor, or his trousers would get dirty by all the dust from the shattered bricks; all that mattered was the peace he felt with this man.

Nick had no clear perception for how long he stayed there, but it grounded him – _calmed_ him. Nick felt himself returning to the present bit by bit. He start to take notice about his surroundings. Like the burning pain in his hands, the strong arms and heat embracing him like a blanket, the smell of orange and spice. Nick sudden went rigged. He knew this scent.

“Relax, Nick.” His Captain whispered gently. Nick let out a sigh of relief. Nick didn't remember much what had happened to him after his arrival at the spice shop, but he remember a flood of pain and darkness, then a gentle hand and a soft voice pulling him out from the ocean of grief threatening to swallow him. Realizing he had been saved by his Captain – the man he secretly loved – made his heart ache. The man truly was too kind for his own good.

“Nick, what's wrong?” Unable to respond Nick pressed his face in the other man's shoulder and now ruined shirt. Nick should feel ashamed of himself, allowing his Captain to see him like this; crying, weak, but he didn't. All he felt, laying in the arms of the older man, was peace. He felt safe and protected. Loved. The gentle hand through his hair calmed him, grounded him. And Nick loved every second of it. He wished to never be let go off, to stay right here, in the strong arms of his Captain. A wave of pain shook through his body.  
“D-don't leave me...” Nick pleaded. His hands grabbing on to the shirt of the other man in an almost desperate manner. “ Please...” Renard pulled the trembling man closer to his chest. Tears still burning hot and raw. Gently Renard cupped Nick's chin in his hand, lifting it to meet his gaze. “Nick, listen to me,” he whispered. “I swear to you, not only as the prince of Portland, but as Sean Renard, I'll never leave you.” Fresh tears ran down the younger detectives face, but there was a new, a barely there light, sparkling behind the heavy veil of sadness that hadn't been there before. It gave Renard hope. Slowly Renard lowered his head, catching the lips of the other man and gently, so very gently, kissed him for the very first time. It was sweet. It was perfect. Everything Renard had dreamed it would be, and yet it was so much more. So much better. Nick all but melted in his arms with a satisfied moan. It was like music to Renard's ears. It was addictive. And Renard already craved it like nothing else. Slowly Renard broke the kiss. Smiling happily at the halfhearted protest escaping the younger man. Their eyes meet and Renard felt himself drown. The soft light he had seen in Nick's eyes earlier were now shining though with such intensity it took Renard's breath away. It was beautiful. Nick was beautiful.

Unable to do much else Renard bent down for yet another kiss. Eagerly Nick meet him halfway, and this time, neither men had any intention to stop.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, feel free to comment, love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Much love Nicole!


End file.
